


Joint Banking

by saavik13



Category: Almost Human
Genre: Slash if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-25 18:41:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13218804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saavik13/pseuds/saavik13
Summary: It happens slowly but it happens all the same - the realization that he's a person is just the beginning really.





	Joint Banking

It takes a while for John to realize it. In his defense he’d never considered it, for several very real and compelling reasons. For starters, he’s never been with a man. Once or twice he’s thought about it, he’s secure enough to admit that, but he never followed through. Secondly, no matter how hot the bot he’s got issues with sex with machines.

He’s had those issues long before the betrayal and his leg and all the reasons he’s sure other people would sight.

Mostly it’s because John wants his partner to get off as much as he is, and synthetics can’t. Sure they can mimic a human orgasm but they don’t actually feel it. They can’t. It’s all just programming and canned lines and internal robot scripts. 

But even worse is that the synthetic doesn’t have a choice. 

John knows that with his low opinion of robots the fact that they can’t give meaningful consent being a problem is rather contradictory. Why would you need a machine to consent – it’s a toaster. But it’s not a toaster – no matter how much he’d like it to be and that’s the real problem.

John hates synthetics because everything about this is _wrong_. The DNR series especially – it grated on his sensibilities from the moment he heard about it and as much as he hates the MX’s for their soullessness he hates the idea of the DNR’s even more. It’s a special kind of evil to create synthetics with _souls_. He knows it’s all programing and fakeness, but it leaves that damn bot with the ability to feel emotions, to acknowledges itself as an individual, to bond with people and other bots and yet – they aren’t free. They are owned property, expected to be expendable and happy to die or get reprogrammed or be sold or decommissioned – to be used and thrown away like garbage.

When the program was shut down it was a relief. But then John always had wondered what happened to the 100 test bots.

Dorian is everything John feared about the DNRs. He’s as human as a bot could be and it makes John ache just looking at him. It’s cruel what was done to him, done to this strange bot that always smiles even when John can see the terror and fear and anger in his eyes. And John can. That’s the really shitty part. Those bastards did their job so well that every emotion is mimicked in those synthetic blue eyes. 

He tries to tell himself that Dorian can’t really feel –that none of its real. Like a sexbot it’s all programmed mimicry and he’s anthropomorphizing. But the longer they work together the less and less sure of that he is until one day he’s positive he’s wrong.

John gets a cat that day because he can’t stand the look of fear and longing on Dorians face when they find the stray kitten. It’s hurt and starving and soaking wet. And Doran wants to help it, wants to keep it, wants something of his own to love and get love back from and it’s so basic and so primal and so very very beyond anything he can have.

So John takes the kitten home, gets it clean, calls a vet who comes out to the house and set’s the cat leg because John is willing to pay more for that than to traumatize it with another car ride. Dorian is a shaking pile of anxiety through the whole thing, so worried for the tiny little thing and when it’s all fed and asleep on John’s bed and Dorian is thanking him repeatedly for doing this John just can’t take it anymore.

“It’s your cat.” John murmurs softly, his back to his partner. “It’s your cat Dorian. I’m only on record as the owner because we both know you can’t be.” John turns and goes to his spare room, the one he’s had too many case files spread out in that it’s high time he did something else with and throws open the door. “And this is your room if you want. You deserve to have your own things, man.”

Dorian stares. He’s programed like a man so he doesn’t cry, for which John is eternally grateful, but when he finally does snap out of it he hugs John a little too hard. 

They don’t talk about it, about what it means. But slowly things find their way into the room – first a field charger Rudy dug up from somewhere. Then a couple spare uniforms. And, after John manages to find an excuse to take Dorian out after hours, a few pieces of non-regulation clothes. It’s rare they have a reason to keep Dorian out of the charging facility but John likes it when he stays over and he reasons that even if it’s a problem on the street in the apartment Dorian doesn’t need a uniform. 

It’s a stroke of brilliance when John figures it out. He files a formal petition with the department to have his android partner permanently stationed at his home based on his injury. Android support assistants are fairly common for the disabled these days and even with the artificial leg there are still mobility issues when it’s charging or in need of repair. John doesn’t really need the help – and anybody in the department that knows him knows that- but the request is standard HR bullshit and he has Val help him check all the right boxes. In the end it takes a few days to process but he gets the authorization back without a single comment and it never even went to his supervisor. It was easier than requisitioning a new stapler.

He probably should have asked Dorian first if that was what he wanted but when he confesses what he’s done Dorian is too busy hugging him to care. He and the damned cat, which he named Bob for some insane reason, appear to be the two happiest things on the planet. Rudy takes about an hour to upgrade the field charger to something a little more suited to a DNR and when he askes Dorian if he needs anything he’s only a little shocked when the only thing he wants is a bed.

The DNR’s were made to charge like a human sleeps and while Dorian can do it standing in an MX bay or sitting hooked to the field charger it’s not ideal. Rudy looks away as Dorian explains and John feels that sinking feeling again.

“They all need shot.” He hears himself say, interrupting his partner. “They reactivate you and don’t even take basic care…” He shakes his head. “Come on, we’ll go pick one out.”

“I don’t have any money, John.” Dorian reminds him softly.

“You don’t need it.” John mutters and pulls out his phone. “Rudy, can you get him access to my bank account – somehow?”

Rudy takes the phone and swallows. “Yeah. It’s not entirely legal but it’s not complicated.” He tweaks a few settings on the phone, interfaces it to Dorian and it takes less than five minutes.

“We good?” John askes, gruffly. “You can probably figure out my budget a hell of a lot faster than I can.”

“We good.” Dorian replies, staring down at the phone. “I…” he trials off, handing it back slowly. “Thank you.”

He calls the bank later and sets up a special savings account that he nicknames D. He doesn’t tell the bank why he wants a second savings account and they clearly don’t care. But he sets up for part of his paycheck to go into it each month. Joint expenses, he tells Dorian to take from his main account. But anything he wants just for himself, he’s got his own money.

The department won’t pay him but John sure as hell will.

And Dorian, being the stubborn man bot he is, takes a few odd jobs here and there, under the table, and adds half of anything he earns into John’s account and the rest into the special savings account. One little old lady down the block calls them a cute couple and neither of them argue about it.

They pretty much are a cute couple, John thinks a little brokenly as he pets Bob. Dorian cooks him dinner at least twice a week. They watch that stupid game with the ball in the pool because it fascinates Dorian. Their entire home life revolves around pleasing their cat. And Dorian set up a third savings account labeled “Vacation” last month and starting putting in a little here and there. 

Dorian never wears navy at the apartment. It’s always bright colors, lots of ugly patterns, anything that is as different from his uniform as possible. Soft fabrics, fleece and cotton mostly, but there’s defiantly one silk shirt at least in the pile. He likes to dress John when they go out, as if it can make up for him having to be in uniform, and John lets him with only a token grumble because it’s just not fair.

Nothing is fair.

He tried twice to buy him, was denied twice. He doesn’t tell Dorian but he suspects Rudy spilled the beans because his partner is unusually quiet after the second denial. They are working on a limited time frame because John isn’t getting any younger and he isn’t going to last like those genetically perfect humans on the commercials. He’s got a set expiration date for being a cop and it’s approaching. They’ve been partners for ten years now, and the department has tried to decommission Dorian so many times he has to ask Dorian for the number. 

What he hopes Dorian doesn’t know, hopes he never finds out, is that he’d have retired already if it wasn’t for him. He’s in constant pain, implants are slowly poisoning the human in him, and even though he’s had them changed out for newer models it hasn’t done enough. The bomb left a big mark on him, bigger than Dorian probably realizes since having wiring is rather natural for him but it isn’t for John. It’s uncomfortable how much of him isn’t him these days, how more and more isn’t every year, and he tries not think about it. But if he doesn’t find a way soon, Dorian will be the only one of them left on the force and that will not end well.

It’s another HR solution that finally presents itself. Dorian’s filled out all the paperwork, all John’s retirement paperwork, along with the extra from requesting he keep his decommissioned bot as a perk. It used to be policy, back in the day, but no one has tried in years and years and it’s not now. But John’s contract with the department is grandfathered in, and so is the clause that allows the request. They both wait anxiously for the forms to circle through all the necessary hoops and just like before it just – happens. Poof. Dorian is his and he’s retired.

And the vacation fund is there, shinning in that joint account.


End file.
